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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30112014">De-/escalations (Portrait of Jonathan Sims as a Sexy Librarian)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/enterprisecaptainoikawa/pseuds/enterprisecaptainoikawa'>enterprisecaptainoikawa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, a one-shot in verse, aro/ace/trans author, aromantic icons jon and tim, had one shot and missed, it's a one-shot about hugging lol, jon is some flavor of asexual as well, satchels and coffee and cardigans, spare humor, the desire to lay one's head on tim's chest, this was going to be a PWP lolol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:35:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,502</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30112014</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/enterprisecaptainoikawa/pseuds/enterprisecaptainoikawa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"We should kiss sometime, or something,” Jon says.</p>
<p>Tim: “Sure.”<br/>Jon: “Great.”</p>
<p>A pause. He’s <em>socializing</em>.<br/>“I’ll send you an email,” Jon says. “We </p>
<p>could pick a date and time when we’re both free.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>De-/escalations (Portrait of Jonathan Sims as a Sexy Librarian)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He is seeing a therapist and </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>attempting to open up more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that he needs to. Maybe.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>His therapist assures him of this— </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>tells him he doesn’t need to make friends </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>at work. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What makes you happy? </span>
  </em>
  <span>is what they ask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s not quite sure, about what makes him happy or </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>whether or not he wants to make friends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s not sure if it’s obligation that pulls on him</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>or something else. Anyway, </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>regardless of motive, he’s trying something out.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He steals a chair in the break room, sits down,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>gets up again to start the coffee maker </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>going. It’s dusty from lack of use. He wipes it </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>off with the cuff of his sweater. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Glances around a bit. Takes a seat,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>starts rummaging through his satchel.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He’s stuffed it with paperwork—it’s a </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>paperwork day, he’s decided. If people </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>come by, he’ll say hello. Or he’ll wait </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>for them to say it first. Experiment</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>implemented. If he grows bored, or tired,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>anxious with it, he’ll just go. Until then,</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>he’ll just sit here, a ghost for the archives’ </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>break room. How it escalates,</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>he can’t exactly say. He blames Tim,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>escalator and de-esculator of situations,</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>who walks in, starts for the coffee machine,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>then pauses, questioning the look of it:</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>on—brewing. He straightens. Looks</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>more intentional. Jon beats him, greets first.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Morning,” he says, shuffling some papers as</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>he says it. Casual. Tim beats him at that—</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>doesn’t bat an eye, just raises his eyebrows,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>smiles, cool. “Morning, boss,” he says. Chill.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Waking up still, pulling a hand through </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>his hair. Jon needs to blink.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I’m socializing,” he informs Tim,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>almost announces it. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tim laughs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can see that,” he says.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“As an experiment,” Jon says, as he feels the</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>need to clarify.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tim smiles again. He says,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why else?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>It occurs to Jon that he might smile back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He does so, slowly curves his lips into </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>a close-mouthed smile that just makes Tim grin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m an idiot,” Jon says;</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>his face clears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Tim rolls his eyes. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You’re fine.” And then, maybe mischievous now:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>adorable.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Objectively untrue.” Jon’s looking up now, </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>making eye contact. Tim begins to reply;</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Jon beats him. “I’m downright stunning,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim glitters. Jon goes on: “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Cute</span>
  </em>
  <span> feels a bit </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>too… feminine, I suppose. Just to, uh. Clarify.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Always a slut for clarity,” Tim jokes.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Jon blinks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me or you?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tim considers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose we both are,” he says.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Jon wants to mull over the idea. “I’m </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>considering how literal a term that might be,” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>he says. “What would I do for clarity?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a statement? To figure things out?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Are there avatars who’d take, uh… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>physical acts </span>
  </em>
  <span>as… I don’t know. Payment </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>for knowledge? Is that how we save the world?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim: “Perhaps you could write a memo to gauge </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>interest.” Then, after a moment: </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do Breekon and Hope </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>do memos?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon considers.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He’s not sure if they’re joking here, or grave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He says: “Someone knows, I suppose.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tim: “True.” Then: “Gonna try and kiss </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>it out of someone?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Now Jon rolls his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably need to practice, first,” he says, dry now.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“It’s been…” He counts, </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>doesn’t have the right numbers. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“A bit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t tell if this is flirting or not,” Tim says.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Are you asking me to, like… train you? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So you can </span>
  <em>
    <span>seduce everyone </span>
  </em>
  <span>to our side?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Jon’s back at shuffling paper, now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’d pass,” he says. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Maybe next time I get kidnapped, I’ll </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>give it a go. See if they’re into, uh. This.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He gestures. He shakes off a </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>passing feeling of ugliness. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Coffee’s ready, if you want some,” he attempts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>De-escalation. Tim’s picking up a coffee mug, two.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I’ve got faith in you, boss,” he says. Starts to </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>pour. “And if you ever want to practice…”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Jon considers. Maybe for a beat too</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>long—Tim glances over, looking </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>maybe on the verge of apologizing: his hands pause;</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>curiosity sharpens him. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I was just joking about the avatars,” says Jon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim: “I figured.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Jon, eyeing the floor now: “I do kind of miss it,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Having someone on hand, I mean, if I ever feel like…</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>kissing someone, things like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Much too aromantic to date, though. And one-night stands </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>sound difficult to implement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’m not—I suppose I’m not sure what I’m looking for, </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>anyway.” He stops. Tim is looking at </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>him. He’s not sure how.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Not that I need to be handing out statements on my </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>sex life at 9am. At work.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tim shrugs, holds out a mug. Jon takes it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine with it,” Tim says. Takes a sip from his own mug.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Smiles. Jon thinks he understands that look:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>the recognition of warmth as something at </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>once ubiquitous and miraculous. His own </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>mug warms his hands.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“It’s a bit much, isn’t it, though? Just—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>unloading my thoughts on the first person</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>I see after a long weekend. So—apologies,”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>he says, “for. That.” When he braves a glance up from</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>his coffee—black, reflective—Tim is seated on the </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>counter, legs dangling. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You can share with me,” Tim says, shrugging. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, grinning: “I can be your guy at work. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Want to chat about sex? Come find me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lord,” Jon mumbles. Then: </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Noted.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Quiet washes in for a bit. “You know,” Tim says,</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I might be a bit aromantic, too. I think I dig…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>how you talk about it, I guess. I like the idea of</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>negotiating sex more drily, intellectually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That wasn’t necessarily the intended effect,” Jon says.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tim apologizes—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I phrased that wrong,” he says. “You’re not—</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>I mean, it’s not your tone or whatever—it’s</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>more… not beating around the bush. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>I like your straightforwardness,” he says. Then,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, I sound like a prick. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon: “It’s cool that you like it, I mean.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tim: “Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon: “I kind of… wish everyone talked that</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>way, about… things. Like giving statements. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With… precision. Ethics aside, I suppose.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>A beat. “Never let me talk again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that an order?” Tim asks.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Maybe,” Jon says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Statement ends,” Tim says.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Jon opens his mouth again. He wonders: </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if </span>
  <em>
    <span>our whole lives </span>
  </em>
  <span>were one long </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>statement? Is that anything?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim laughs. “All the world’s an immensely lengthy</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>recounting of a horrific encounter. Sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just stuck on kissing,” Jon says. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Or I’m still waking up. Need a statement, maybe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I can’t be held accountable for anything I say </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>on paperwork day. I’ve basically skipped breakfast.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a vampire,” Tim accuses. “A… a </span>
  <em>
    <span><br/>
</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>word-vampire.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Living on the ink of others.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought I was a sexy librarian,” Jon </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>deadpans. “You’re both,” Tim tells him— </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“it’s too much power for a man of your stature.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Jon crosses his arms, </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>splashes coffee on his cardigan when he does so.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Damn</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Well. Without snacks, I’m </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>useless for speech,” he says. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tim raises his eyebrows. “All you </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>had to do was ask,” he says.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Jon thinks about it for a moment,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>doesn’t want to ask the wrong question.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He settles for exasperation, </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>asks with just a sparkle of compulsion:</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“What are you going on about?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim shivers, holds his cup a little tighter.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He’s potentially blushing. Or the </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>room’s gotten cold. He looks at Jon from </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>under his eyelashes. “I’m being coy,” he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon: “About…”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tim: “Flirting with you, towards…<br/>
<br/>
whatever end </span>
  <span>you’d like, I suppose. If you’d like.”<br/>
</span>
  <span>Tim’s admission is just the smallest bit nervous, and—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jon consumes it. Feels a little more<br/>
clearheaded, </span>
  <span>suddenly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” he says. “That was—</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>very smooth?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim looks proud, now. “Thank you.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“We should kiss sometime, or something,” Jon says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tim: “Sure.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Jon: “Great.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pause. He’s <em>socializing</em>.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I’ll send you an email,” Jon says. “We </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>could pick a date and time when we’re both free.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tim hops down from the counter, gets a bit </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>close. He’s taller, like this. Or </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Jon is shorter. His line of sight </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>is an arrow jabbing Tim in the chest. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>God, he’s gay. Or asexual. Or </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>both. Actually—bisexual. Bi- and demisexual?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Gray-asexual? He wants to rest his head there,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>where the arrow has stuck. “I like—</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>this,” he says. “I was thinking about—kissing, </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>but—I’m not sure. But—God—can I just…?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tim’s already set down his mug. He’s stood there,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>arms held out for a hug now. Jon takes a breath.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Slowly steps into the circle, snakes</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>his arms around Tim’s waist. He’s—sturdy.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tim’s arms close around him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This is socializing, </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>he thinks. He fidgets for a moment, head</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>an inch from Tim’s chest. Then he burrows in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I could live on these,” he says.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Tim, hands on Jon’s back: “Hugs?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to need to keep you in </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>my office,” Jon tells him. He </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tim’s laugh. “This isn’t romantic,” he warns.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You’re just very comfortable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like hugging a big ball of secrets.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“BFFs,” Tim decides. “We are </span>
  <em>
    <span>BFFs</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll send you that email this afternoon,” Jon says.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He’s very matter-of-fact about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Looking forward to it,” Tim replies. They</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>still haven’t separated.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
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